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392 WILLIAM CONGREVE [ACT II
Man. Garcia, that search shall be your care:
It shall be mine to pay devotion here:
At this fair shrine to lay my laurels down,
And raise Love's altar on the spoils of war.
Conquest and triumph, now, are mine no more:
Nor will I victory in camps adore:
For, lingering there, in long suspense she stands,
Shifting the prize in unresolving hands:
Unused to wait, I broke through her delay,
Fixed her by force, and snatched the doubtful day.
Now late I find that war is but her sport;
In love the goddess keeps her awful court:
Fickle in fields, unsteadily she flies,
But rules with settled sway in Zara's eyes. [Exeunt.
ACT THE SECOND
SCENE I
The Aisle of a Temple
Enter GARCIA, HELI, and PEREZ.
GAR. This way, we're told, Osmyn was seen to walk;
Choosing this lonely mansion of the dead,
To mourn, brave Heli, thy mistaken fate.
Heli. Let Heaven with thunder to the centre strike me
If to arise in very deed from death,
And to revisit with my long-closed eyes
This living light, could to my soul or sense,
Afford a thought, or show a glimpse of joy,
In least proportion to the vast delight
I feel to hear of Osmyn's name; to hear
That Osmyn lives, and I again shall see him!
Gar. I've heard, with admiration, of your friendship.
Per. Yonder, my lord, behold the noble Moor.
Heli. Where? where?
Gar. I saw him not, nor any like him.
Per. I saw him, when I spoke, thwarting my view,
And striding with distempered haste; his eyes
Seemed flame, and flashed upon me with a glance;